Not another fairytale
by TheWriterWithWings
Summary: The journey of a woman whose world fell apart when the nightmares became reality.


This story starts as a fairytale.

One you read in the old dusty books found in the attic, abandoned there by generations of little girls dreaming, growing up and leaving behind their childhood in boxes stored in the darkness of ancient mansions.

There was a girl.

And of course, as you can guess, there was a boy too.

But let's start this journey with her.

She was a maiden hired to keep company to the old lady of the Hill Mansion. She was young, barely fifteen then. Dragged away from home by circumstances. Her mother long gone, the girl named Amadeya had been raised by her father, a professor reputed for his wisedom and unfortunately, for his sadeness as well. The loss of his love, passed away while giving birth to the little girl he loved with all the remains of his heart, had marked him and his soul, drowning him into a well of grief that grew deeper and deeper over the years until one night, his exhausted heart gave up, his soul flying eagerly towards the heaven where it knew, the soul of his wife was awaiting.

The girl had been sad of course. She had wept and mourned but she decided that this was a blessing after all. Hadn't she not one but two guardian angels looking after her now after all?

And it was with a lighter heart that she had left the house that had been her home for her whole life to move into the mansion that would be the craddle of her new existence.

And...as you will hear about later, the place where she would spend her eternity.

But let's not rush this story.

I promised you it was starting as a fairytale. And so far, you might have been distracted by the sadeness. Don't let it darken your mood. Please, allow me to carry on.

The old lady she was supposed to keep company to was all but a boring one. She was proud to call herself one of the very first female adventuress of her time! Even before Amelia Earheart! Our Amadeya was delighted to hear about the stories of Miss Pendergast.

Miss Pendergast had never been married. Never had she allowd herserlf to be, as she used to say, 'put on a leash".

Instead, she had defied centuries of traditions and used the bleeding heart of her father to get what she wanted.

Travels.

She had travelled around the world. Oh what a delicious scandal it has been! A woman on her own, travelling through Europe, admiring the pyramids of Egypt, meeting the greatest minds of her time, writers, explorers and erudites all over the world, walking over the bridges of many ships across many oceans.

She even had met savages, she used to tell to Amadeya. Savages with gold skin and eyes as dark as the darknest night. One night, as Amadeya was drawing next to Miss Pendergast's chair, the old woman had narrated her that one of them, a man called Atun-Viracocha, had been her first love and lover, how she had been raptured under a sky full of stars and the caress of a warm wind, making the young maiden blush and wonder.

It has been so easy to get attached to the old woman. And so easy to feel at home by her side in the Hill Mansion, the big house they were living in, named after Howard Hill, Miss Pendergast's grandfather.

During the old lady's naps, Amadeya loved to explore the house, to listen to its shadows, to enter rooms where no one had set a foot for ages, to run a finger along furnitures wrapped into a coat of dust and memories long forgotten.

Miss Pendergast had told her that she believed this house was full of quiet spirits and fading ghosts. And it was something Amadeya truly believed because she could almost hear them, feel them. They were not frightening. They were not hostile.

As a matter of fact, she loved them as much as she loved that house and the mistress of the house. She would even dare imagining their stories, guiding only by her imagination, by what she could guess of the nicnacs abandoned in the various chambers, of the sound of a piano that had once probably been played by one of them or by a feather that might have been used to write ancient love letters, long turned into dust and ashes, just like the ones they were destined to a long time ago.

What about the boy, you ask?

Getting impatient, already, dear reader? Fine, fine. Let's talk about the boy.

At this time of our story, the boy is actually already a young man. England's finest med student. He had ben raised in the best school of London, proud and handsome young man with manners and patience and a thirst for knowledge that could compete with our sweet Amadeya's.

His father was Miss Pendergast's youngest brother. As Miss Pendergast had decided to settle on the side of the ocean she found the most fascinating after a lifetime of travel, her brother had decided to settle in England, where the customs and weather were suiting his quiet nature more. That's where he had founded his family and life, not interested by the family history nor the old mansion once built by their ancestors.

Although, when his son Thomas had announced him that he wanted to go to America and reconnect with the family roots, Mr Pendergast had found it particularly ironic. He hadn't however objected. He sent a letter to his old sister to ask if his dear son could find a home at the mansion and of course, the answer, coming a few weeks after that, blame it on the navy mail, had been positive and extremely enthusiastic. Miss Pendergast was more than happy to welcome the 'new generation".

So here was our boy. Our Thomas. He had enjoyed every day of the long crossing of the ocean on board of a rather large cruise ship. He had met many fascinating people and learned a lot about navigation and the sea, his bags full of read books and fully covered in his studious writing notebooks.

I mentioned fairytales.

Can you see him getting out of the carriage that had brought him to the manor, looking up to embrace the view of this majestuous mansion before smiling at the old lady coming towards him? Can you see him as he wrapped his arms around her frail frame and is your imagination sharp enough to allow you to catch that precious moment when his eyes fell on Amadeya, standing there on top of the stairs, near the front door, her hands crossed over a stomach?

Can you see the lightening striking him as his heart recognized who would be the love of his life, his beloved?

Miss Pendergast had pulled away from his embrace as she had heard the 'who is this' whispered by the young man. Her eyes had travelled from his face to Amadeya and back at him. She had smiled so widely her cheeks had hurt. Without waiting another instant, she had guided her nephew towards her loyal maiden and introduced them, not losing any gasp, any blush, conscious she was witnessing the very birth of a beautiful love story, one she could only approve with all her heart.

She had no doubt he was a fine young man and she had been thinking for a while that the young lady was spending too much time in the company of old people and ghosts and here he was, the boy sent by Destiny. And by her young brother.

She had clapped in her hands excitedly before remembering that you should never put the car before the horses. The two young people had yet to know each other, to enjoy every step of the way that would be their path through love and life.

She was simply excited that this would probably enlighten her old days.

And so it had been.

During Miss Pendergast's naps, Amadeya had guided Thomas through the hallways, pointed at him every mistery of the house. They had spent hours reading old books together, wandering in the garden, exploring the nearby town every time Miss Pendergast was insisting on them 'leaving her alone and doing what young people should do".

At night, after dinner and before she would retire to her bedroom for sleep, she told them both about her travels, stories that weren't new for Amadeya but well for Thomas. Amadeya loved to watch the young man as he listened, her eyes not leaving his features, studying every reaction, laughing with him. The night Miss Pendergast told about her 'first night with her savage", Amadeya had enjoyed seeing him blush as well, relieved that she hadn't been the only one and more secretly relieved to know that he was as unexperimented as her in that matter.

Thomas had come to America to travel as well and find a work that would suit his adeventurous mind. He had studied the art of medicine and thought of settling somewhere in a big city where it would be easy to find himself patients. But his encounter with Amadeya had changed everything. He didn't want to go anywhere without her and she didn't wish to leave Miss Pendergast's side. After many hours of discussions about the future, finding out that they were sharing the same dreams and when it became clear that their hearts had chosen each other, they decided that Thomas would stay at the mansion for a little while, spending some days in town to help at the hospital or visiting older people at their home when they needed a doctor. Once they would be married if that day would come, then maybe they could reconsider or even, if they were lucky, they could convince Miss Pendergast to move out with them to a big city where Thomas could have a study and Amadeya could split her time between her duties as a wife and the cares for the old lady. Miss Pendergast's health was weakening and Amadeya was relieved that Thomas was there, helping on the worse days, comforting both women and sharing their little habits. He was there every time Amadeya was taking the old woman to the garden, helping with tea and reading them something while the old lady was dozing off and the young maiden was busy taking care of the administration of the house, writing letters to the suppliers or to the many friends of Miss Pendergast, spread all over the world, when the old woman wanted to share something with them or ask for news.

As you can see, this is the fairytale part. A man loves a woman and the woman loves him. Everybody is happy about it and of course they are young and healthy, full of freams and hopes.

He proposed her on the day of her birthday, as a surprise organised with the complicity of Miss Pendergast. The ring he put on her finger was a gift from the old lady to him. It was the ring that belonged to her mother and the mother of her mother, one passed from generation to generation. As she never married, she had kept it preciously, convinced that one day, she would find the perfect maiden to pass it on. And here she was, her lovely Amadeya, one she grew to love as the granddaughter she never had. She had looked with a heart full of joy the young man kneel down to propose the maiden shed a happy tear as she heard her 'yes' and as they both turned towards her, she had motioned them to come closer, to gather them in her ams and hold them tightly, calling them her children, her progeny, wishing them all the happiness in the world.

But like in every fairytale, the story has to take a darker turn. And sadly, it starts with this sweet proposal.

Miss Pendergast's health had never been very good. Too many travels in countries where health wasn't a priority and life conditions were poor, many bad habits (she liked to smoke once in a while, something Amadeya despised but that the old lady saw as her guilty pleasure) and most of all, the burden of old age were now making her days longer and heavier with aches and pain.

Thomas was trying to help with homemade potions and medications, herbal teas and pain killers but the old lady's naps grew longer and her nights shorter getting her restless and exhausted at the same time. Amadeya was concerned a bit more every day and when Thomas announced her that the visits in the garden might have to stop because he wanted to avoid any bad cold or congestion, she retired to the kitchen to cry quietly. She knew that the old lady was getting too weak and that there was nothing they could do but still, her young heart was not ready to let go yet. She had dried her tears and came back to her beloved, a determined look in her eyes. No more garden, alright. But she would draw it for Miss Pendergast every day so she would keep track on the growth of her roses and on the dance of the seasons. When the old lady was feeling well enough, she would keep her occupied with the preparations of the wedding, with the list of guests and the discussions about the food and the flowers. Those moments were still full of happiness and so Amadeya wanted to cherish them with all the energy she had.

It was during that difficult time that an epidemy started to spread over the villages and towns around. Amadeya who was now managing the preparations of the teas and potions just as Thomas had taught her, encouraged her beloved to go to help while she would take care of Miss Pendergast. But soon, the amount of sick people grew so high that Thomas requested her help. They took the habit, with Miss Pendergast's permission, of hiring one of her old friends to watch over her during her long naps over day so Amadeya could join her fiance and help as good as she could.

The situation was worrying and for a while, Thomas was afraid that the epidemy would cost many lives, much more than first expected. It was a singular disease, one that seemed to strike randomly, with no visible pattern or cause, taking the life of one strong man while sparing an infant. No cure and no potion seemed to be truly efficient. And at night, when Thomas, exhausted and emaciated, managed to be at home, they would talk about it in front of the fireplace, a dozing off Miss by their side.

There was something mysterious about this disease, Thomas once said. Something that was not mentioned in any book he ever read.

Amadeya had felt his hesitation to talk about it. She knew him too welll not to notice. Gently she had pressed him to talk, that maybe together they could come up with new theories.

Thomas had sighed and pulled his precious fiancee against him, making her sit in his lap. He had inhaled the sweet scent of her hair before talking.

"You see…" he had said in a tired voice. "I spoke with many of them, the sick ones. Many said that just before they started to show the first signs of the sickness, they experienced nightmares. And this is odd because everyone of them described the same dream. All of them. From different towns, from different ages, all the patients are different and don't know each other but nevertheless...even with different words...They all talked about a dark man. One appearing to them, at the end of their bed, standing there and watching them without a word. That man ...whoever and whatever he is….always says the same words. "To the darkness you may belong". And I stood by many people as they were dying. Amy...I swear on everything I have….Some of them whispered the very same words before they passed away. I don't know how to explain this. I don't know….What I can do." He had confessed before burying his face into her neck.

"I know who he is", a voice had echoed behind Amadeya. They had jumped slightly before turning towards Miss Pendergast that they had both thought asleep in her armchair. Amadeya had been terrified by the expression on the old lady's face. And by the sudden strength into her voice. The old woman had been weak for days and now she was sitting straight, her hands clenched over the arms of her chair, staring at the fire.

"What do you mean?" Thomas asked.

"The dark man….He is the disease. He is the one you seek. You can't cure the sicks as they are not burdened with sickness. They are being trialed and judged by the shadows. He marks them and decides which soul he will claim. The dark man….I heard about him in many cultures, many legends talk about him. He's a myth. A real one. Pray the ones you believe in that he will never lay his eyes upon you."

Amadeya had left Thomas's embrace to sit at the feet of the Miss. She had cupped her hands with hers and was looking up at the old woman with fear and fascination in her eyes.

"Tell us, Madam...tell us what you know. Maybe...maybe we can stop him. We can find a …"

Before she could finish her sentence, the woman had leaned down and grabbed her shoulders with an unexpected strength. "No, Amy! No! You must stay away from Him! Don't try to stop him or He will come after you! Promise me, promise me, Amy!" the old woman had screeched. Amadeya hissed in pain and Thomas rushed to join, to free her from the old woman's grip.

"Aunt Lizzie, calm down. She promises! Just….tell us what you know. I saw many people die from this disease...We can't just stand there and do nothing!" he said before sitting next to the old lady, his hand wrapped around Amadeya's.

The old woman leaned back and sighed before shaking her head.

"I remember the first time I heard of him. It was during my travel in Egypt. There was also a disease making many victims in a village we crossed during that time. I asked if we could help. We had penicilline with us, as we wanted to bring it to the hospital in Cairo. It was difficult to find back then and we had brought it specially to help if we could. An old woman...probably older than I am now..told me it wasn't a disease you could cure with medications. Only with faith and rituals. That it was a curse. A terrible curse. She told me about the dark man. A legend. The dark man is made of shadows and fear. It isn't human. It's…. a demon that feeds on souls and fears. She said it appeared in your dreams to see what you are made of. Depending on what he finds, he decides if you may live and heal or….if you will be his. He taints your soul and your body starts to succumb and give up as his power is so unnatural that no human being can bare his monstruous touch without getting sick. It crawls under your skin, it darkens your mind. And if you die under his control, you belong to him and his darkness. You are condemned to spend your eternity under his reign. In a place worse than hell. And if he decides that he doesn't want you after all...he comes out of you, out of your dreams, out of your soul and you start to heal….but your soul never feels the same. As he touched it. As he knows what your heart are made of. As he made a path to your heart he can use to come back as he pleases. She says he's looking for something. Someone. That he is older than life and death. He will go away when he will decide that he had enough of this place. No one can stop him. And the ones who try...They have to be ready to be trialed by Him."

Thomas stayed silent for a moment. Amadeya frowned trying to assimilate the story. Was it just a myth? Just a story? Was it making any sense at all? She shook her head. This was…..This couldn't be?

But when she heard Thomas's voice, her chest tightened. If her beloved….a doctor, a scientist, the sweetest man she ever met, believed….then all doubts would be foolish.

"What was his name? Did she mention a name?" he asked, his voice slightly trembling.

"No, she didn't…" Miss Pendergast answered. "But I heard of him everywhere. he had many names. It was always the same story...the nightmares, the deaths...the curse...Fear Dubh...Slenderman….The clutchbone...He has many names. Don't try to approach him. To stop him. Thomas...You have a long and happy life ahead of you. With your beloved. Please….Take her away from here. Go back to England, maybe? Marry her, have children...don't chase the ghosts, my dear. I am ...begging….you' she added as her eyes were closing. Her head rolled on the side and soon her breathing slowed down. Amadeya and Thomas watched her, stupefied, horrified, unsure of what to think.

Without a word, Thomas got up and scooped the old lady into his arms before dragging her to bed, followed by a silent Amadeya who was still trying to figure out what to think. She had met a few sick people, talked to them, held their hands and assisted Thomas during his visits. Had she seen, heard or felt anything that could confirm this all? She didn't know.

She helped Thomas with tucking Miss Pendergast in and she only talked when he accompanied her to her bedroom's door.

"Tom….what do you think about this? Really? Do you….do you believe it's true?" she asked, trembling.

He sighed and kissed her cheek before stepping back. "My dear...I believe there are things we can't explain. The nightmares….Something is wrong. If I believe? I don't know yet. But let's say I don't exclude this possibility. I tried all the other explanations and so far…..none of them seemed to make as much sense as what we just heard. Would you have time to go to the librairy tomorrow ? And see if you could bring me all the books you can find about similar legends? There is a hint of truth in every myth after all. With your clever mind and mine….if there is an explanation...we'll find it.

-Of course, yes. I can have Mrs Woodsbury come over to watch over Madam during the afternoon. I will see what I can find. She seemed…..so scared. I never saw her like this before…

Thomas hugged her tight and smiled.

- Please, don't worry, my love. I might leave very early for my visits tomorrow but I will be home for dinner. I love you, Amy. Good night.

- I love you too, my Thomas." she answered with a nod before watching him walk towards his room, a room they would only share after the wedding.

She shivered and entered her room, knowing already that sleep would be hard to find that night.

The days and weeks after that, while Thomas was spending more and more time trying to help the patients, Amadeya used all her spare time studying books and visiting the people who had recovered more or less from the singular disease, armed with the list that Thomas gave her with their names and a notebook. She asked them all as much details as they could remember about the dreams and the nightmares. She managed to draw a sketch of the dark man based on what the bravest people could remember, the ones she would convince that it was important, even if many were trying their best to forget. Often, the men and women she would ask would simply look away and deny having seen anything. The most help she found came from children. She had now a half dozen of sketches of the dark man, a slender form, tall and thin with unnaturally long arms.

And no face.

Her first guess had been that no one could see it, the dream not being detailed enough. But soon, it became a certitude, many witnesses nodding hard and feeling nauseous as they mentioned this particular point. They had seen very clearly the Dark Man. Sometimes he would come close enough to touch their faces. And where his should have stood, they were all describing a featureless head.

He was always wearing a dark suit and tie and a top hat.

He was silent for the most part. His only words were the ones Thomas had already mentioned. "To the darkness you may belong."

Thomas and her would always wait untilll Miss Pendergast was asleep in her bed to sit together and talk about this, about their findings and theories. That night, they still had no idea about what they could do. The epidemy didn't seem to slow down. Thomas had even heard it had reached Chicago, causing many more deaths. And lately the recovering patients were developing signs of insanity, as if the disease was now evolving into something permanent, leaving the survivors in such a state of terror they were losing their mind on their way back to health.

A high-pitched scream snatched them out of the comfortable chairs they were settled in and both stared at the ceiling in the general direction of Miss Pendergast's bedroom. Without any unnecessary word, they both rushed towards the stairs.

"Aunt Lizzie! Madam!" Both called out. The silence had returned and somehow it was even more frightening than anything. Thomas opened the door and walked in, followed by Almadeya who turned on the light while Thomas ran towards the bed.

"Aunt Lizzie?" he called as the bed was empty.

"Here! Thomas, quick!" Amadeya shouted as she spotted the old lady curled up on the floor in the corner of the room. She let herself fall on her knees near the woman and shook her shoulder gently. "Madam? Lizzie? Thomas…."

He beloved appeared by her side and he checked on the woman, his gestures precise and slow.

"She's breathing. She probably tried to go to the bathroom and fell..", he hazarded before lifting her up to bring her back to bed.

Amadeya looked around and frowned. She doubted that. The bathroom was on the other side of the room and it seemed to her that the sheets had been pushed away in a hurry, as they were almost out of the bed. She came closer to arrange them as Thomas placed the old woman very carefully back on the mattress.

"Maybe she had a nightmare…" Thomas whispered before looking up at his fiancee. Amadeya stared at him for a moment before looking at Miss Pendergast. A nightmare?

"Maybe you should check her temperature. And her heart. It has been very cold today. Maybe it's just her arthritis getting worse." she hoped before sitting next to the woman. She adjusted her arms and her hair before pressing a kiss on her forehead. She frowned again. "Thomas….why is she not waking up? What's going on? Did you give her laudanum tonight?" She asked as she tried to remember which medication the old lady had been taking that night.

Thomas froze and looked at the nightstand.

"No….Did you?"

But before she could answer, Miss Pendergast's head rolled on the side and she started to mumble. "Darkness….the darkness." A cold shiver ran up Amadeya's spine and she squeezed the lady's hand. "Madam….Shhh…..We're here. Thomas and I...we're here. Thomas….we need light. She'll sleep with candles tonight. Please?" she urged him and he nodded, none of them ready to word their fear. He lit up a few candles all around the bed and brought a blanket he placed over Amadeya. He then took a seat in the chair next to the lady's bed. Without a word, they both knew that they wouldn't leave the woman's side that night. Even if they couldn't be sure, they wouldn't take any risks. Amadeya curled up as good as possible next to the lady and closed her eyes, her hands still firmly holding Miss Pendergast's. Her last conscious thought that night was that dark man or not, no one would hurt the one she saw as a grandmother. Not on her watch.

Not tonight.


End file.
